Good news!

 

Good news. How lovely are the feet of the person who brings good news. I had a message from a cousin that an uncle and aunt had visited Mom yesterday. My heart filled with gratitude to them. Then Debra, who manages the hall on which Mom lives, sent a picture of Mom with her younger brother and his wife. Mom was beaming. Debra said what a wonderful day it was for her.

Thinking of Jesus’ words: whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me. I am aware that although I can’t visit Mom, there are others in this area who are lonely. I can visit them.

May God help me to do what I can, where I am.

Engage your Core

 

Double down. Engage your core.

Come on, President Biden!

With sinking heart, I just read a report that suggests the US President has opted to send Congress a bi-partisan-supporting infrastructure bill which largely ignores environmental imperatives. There may be some concessions to environmental concerns in the second part of the bill, but it seems that he is going to restore the crumbling infrastructure as a priority over taking the tough decisions needed to turn environmental degradation around.

Nero fiddled while Rome burned, the legend goes. The US western states are sizzling in soaring temperatures; wildfires break out everywhere; as the ocean rises in the Florida Keys they are raising the roads. Plus ca change.

In this world you will have trouble, Jesus said. But take heart, for I have overcome the world. May he inspire and raise up leaders to take the tough decisions, banning single-use plastic and plastic water bottles, for instance. May he inspire and raise us up to treat his world with the respect and care he expects from us as the earth’s custodians.

Quirky Pot and Creation

 

On the window ledge of the conservatory sits a quirky hand-made pottery piece. It is a cottage with an old man’s smiling face welcoming all and sundry. When I occasionally wash down the surface, I take great care not to break that very special piece of pottery. Don made it several years ago while we were on holiday in France. The B&B where we stayed had a kiln and residents were invited to use it. Doug and I made some very basic bowls. Mine looked like a series of worms on top of one another. It serves to hold the cotton balls beside the bathroom sink.

Don spent hours in the workshop, creating a wonderfully fanciful cottage. I love the piece, because I love its creator, and so I take extra special care of it.

Bible reading notes I wrote on Creation Care for Bible Reading Fellowship are currently being highlighted on their website, alongside an article I wrote especially for their online presence. You can find it here, as well as a link to the notes over these next two weeks.

https://www.brf.org.uk/grounded-in-hope/

I have a sincere desire to minimise my negative impact on the planet, because I love the creator and don’t want to spoil his handiwork. May we all learn how best to do this, so that the destructive use of our resources may be stemmed and we may work together towards restoration of the diversity and beauty of this world and its resources.

The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it.

 

De-Cluttering my life

 

Another cookbook in the bag for a charity shop. I’m determined, even though slow, to de-clutter. I started with something over which I have sole control: my cookbooks. Nobody can dash in and claim a reason for hanging on to something we never use and possibly don’t even like.

The rich young man was challenged to sell all he had and follow Jesus. He couldn’t let go. I think I could let go of most things of monetary value; it is those things that drag on the heart, that remind me of a lost loved one or a moment in time, which I struggle to relinquish. Anchored in the past by such touchstones: do I really need things to revive memories? Well, to be honest, yes, sometimes I do. Sometimes I forget details and delights which bring a smile or a chuckle or a stray tear, which make another person vibrant in my mind again. I am wearing a bracelet today which was given to me by the wife of a cousin. It is delicate and beautiful and makes me smile when I remember her kindness, her love and her care for my mother.

Jesus challenges us to let go of the things which stand between us and him, the things which we value over his love. Some of the things we possess serve to reflect aspects of his love as seen and experienced through relationships past and present.

I want to sell or give away all those things whose value is only monetary, not practical or sentimental. But those things which serve to remind me of loved ones near and far, then and now: I’m not going to rush to declutter them from my life.

Re-wilding my Faith

 

When Joseph met his brothers in Egypt years after they’d sold him to the slave traders, he eventually revealed to them who he was. As they cowered in fear at the probable retribution he would dish out to them, he spoke words of reassurance instead. What you intended for harm, he said, God used for good. He turned the situation around, using Joseph to prepare a way of salvation for the Jewish nation during a severe famine.

 

Right after Jesus was baptised by John, the Holy Spirit led him into the wilderness. In the wilderness, there was risk: risk of wild animals, risk of heatstroke, risk of loneliness. In the wilderness, there are no familiar crutches on which to lean. There is nobody on whom to call. Except God.

 

In the wilderness, Jesus not only drew near to his Father, he also gained a new perspective on the situation in the church of his day, the Temple with all its rules and rituals. He emerged from the wilderness forty days later, prepared to challenge some of the assumptions he may previously not have questioned.

 

Zoom church is, for me, a spectator event. I feel disengaged and distant. It has been, and continues to be, a wilderness experience. But as churches begin to re-open, I am thinking that what the pandemic took away, God has redeemed. Unfulfilled by the church experience, I found myself in a wilderness with only God on whom to lean. I have found my perspective changing.

 

He has, and still is, calling me to re-wild my faith. To truly base my faith and actions on my relationship with him, rather than any expectations or regulations from human institutions. What does this look like? What will it look like eventually?

 

I don’t know. But I feel like I, and maybe many others, are limping out of a wilderness, with faith still intact, even stronger than ever, but maybe appearing a little unkempt. There was not only risk in the wilderness; there was opportunity for creative thinking, for questions and growth.

 

The journey continues.

 

Plans for Good

 

Plans.

There is a blueprint of the alterations Don is making to the steading behind the house. The plans were drawn up by an experienced architect, and yet once or twice the drawings haven’t been quite right. They haven’t conformed to what is there already, or they haven’t reflected the instructions he was given. He’s had to go back to the drawing board.

This last year has demonstrated the futility of making plans too far in the future.

I’ve started thinking about venturing out again, travelling to see my mother. That involves planning, and I have to say that I am relieved to see that British Airways has become a flexible carrier, allowing changes of plan for whatever reason without incurring a charge.

Having experienced the chaos and heartache of plans made and cancelled, it is good to have that assurance at the back of my mind. Who knows where we’ll be in terms of global pandemic in a few months’ time? I may make plans over these next few days which I then have to go back to the drawing board, for whatever reason.

God says he knows the plans he has for us, plans to give us hope, and a good future. He has known those plans since before time began. He knows where we’ll be with Covid in the autumn.

I pray that as the prison doors of lock down begin to open, we will step forth in confidence and trust, resuming lives that bring glory to God and joy to our hearts.

We walk in faith, relying on him to guide our decisions and inspire our dreams and plans. As I consider dates for going to visit Mom, I pray for his guidance. May he bless and guide each one of us as we begin to make tentative plans again, plans to re-engage with loved ones, to pursue travel dreams or to fulfil business obligations.  

May God bless our plans.

Weeds...

 

The dirt was so dry that I could lift out the weed seedlings with ease before drawing earth up the shoulders of the potato plants. I worked along the rows, glad of a mindless task which freed me to think deeper thoughts.

Jesus calls us to follow him, to be his church. He wants us to bear fruit for him, for the kingdom. If we allow weeds of distraction to take root in the soil of our lives, they leach spiritual nutrients from us and inhibit our growth. They stunt the fruit we might otherwise produce.

As I continue to think what it means to rewild my spiritual life, I wonder what weeds of ritual or routine I have allowed to take root in my heart and mind, weeds which stunt my spiritual growth and diminish the fruit God wants to grow in and through me.

Now that it has rained, the earth clings tightly to the roots of the weeds, making it more difficult to extract them without damaging the main plants. May I not hesitate to remove the weeds from my mind, heart and spirit before they become deeply embedded. May I surrender to my Father the gardener and allow him to guide me in this today.

Rewilding

 

The grass in the ‘orchard’ is so long that it has collapsed onto the rhubarb. I chuckled to myself the other day in taking the compost out to the heap and having to step through this rewilded area, remembering my dad’s comments about someone walking awkwardly as though stepping through a field of corn. That someone is now me, and I am sure it is not an elegant look.

Speaking of my dad, an ex-Marine who lived the adage ‘once a Marine, always a Marine’, he was a ‘short back and sides’ every three weeks at the barber sort of guy. The long hair of the sixties really ruffled his feathers, to mix metaphors. He liked his garden cut twice a week in the summer, and trimmed at the sides. He would hate our efforts at rewilding.

I have to admit, I’m suspicious that Don’s enthusiasm for this is an excuse not to have to cut the grass. I’m also slightly apprehensive about the sort of wildlife we might be enabling and attracting: in the midst of our family gathering last weekend, a shrew sauntered right through our midst across the slightly shorter grass in front of the house.

Rewilding, I discovered on google, is not just a trend to enable natural biodiversity to flourish. It is also a term applied to human health, and its advocates recommend dips in icy rivers or cold showers, daily exposure to early morning sunshine (challenging in Scotland…), and eating ancient grains and game. Hmm.

If we can rewild our environment and rewild our bodies, what would it mean to rewild our spiritual life? I imagine it involves embracing sabbath rests while also allowing harvesting a picnic in the field despite it being sabbath, receiving sabbath as a gift from God and not a duty to be performed. I wonder if it could also mean throwing off some of our institutional church do’s and don’ts, and going straight to the Source in prayer and scripture. Jesus called us to follow him, not to establish a structure of judgment of others’ lifestyles and a protocol for worship preference.

Maybe we are being nudged towards embracing those whose worship styles irritate us like the grass drooping into the veggie patch, whose ideas seem like rodents in the garden, but whose love for Jesus inspires their actions.

I am going to linger in these thoughts today, asking God to show me how to rewild my spiritual life. How about you?

Blind Spots

 

Is that snow?

Some sort of flakes were drifting past the kitchen window as we ate breakfast. The weather has dipped significantly, and this is Scotland, after all, but snow? On June 16?

No. Don was sure, and fortunately, he was right. Blossom floating off some of the nearby trees landed softly on the cars.

My understanding of what I see is shaded by the lens through which I am looking today. I’m feeling a little chilly; it’s June and I want to feel hot: good grief, is that snow I see?!!

Jesus stood in front of Pontius Pilate. Jesus, the embodiment of Truth, and yet Pilate asked him, ‘What is truth?’ How blind we can be. How limited our understanding.

May we all put on Holy Spirit specs today, to see our world clearly, without the distortions and blind spots we otherwise all have.

Nasty Tick

 

Three a.m. wake-up a couple of nights ago, sensing the crunch of tick jaws on the back of my knee, right on the crease. There is a profusion of these tiny predators this year and this one reached a spot I just couldn’t. Fortunately Don was up, too. The credit-card size tick remover wouldn’t work on one so tiny, in such a space. Tweezers were ineffective. He went for a needle and a magnifying glass.

Doug, hearing the kerfuffle, came in (no doubt instantly regretting it…). His eyes clearer, his hand steadier, he managed to extract most, if not all, of the tiny parasite. It was not the way he planned to open his birthday celebrations…

I am left with a persistent itch and a red spot. Hopefully, I am not left with Lyme’s disease!!

There’s a treatment for cats and dogs to deter ticks and make them drop off. I’m considering using it on myself…

Life is littered with ticks, some which do nothing more than drain emotional strength and create an itch, others which impart a toxicity in our emotional or spiritual life. A word spoken harshly or without thought, in haste or in exhaustion, can pollute relationships and spoil generosity of spirit and kindness of heart.

James, Jesus’ brother, had a lot to say about words. ‘No-one can tame the tongue,’ he wrote. ‘It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.’

A nasty tick. May God help us all to tame our tongues.

Follow the Sun

 

The sunflowers Flick planted at school are shooting up and needing to be planted outside. But Flick, the tender gardener, is afraid to put them out. What if something eats them? There are aphids on the roses. What if a slug or snail gets there and spoils them?

Possibly we could repot them and keep them inside the conservatory, I tell her. But for them to be as tall and beautiful as they were created to be, they need to go outside. They need to bask in the full sunlight. We need to watch out for the beasties, and water and stake and tend them, and leave the rest to God.

It is a risk we have to take if we want these sunflowers to flourish.

Life is a risk for all of us. We have been languishing inside prescribed areas, mingling with limited numbers, for over a year now. Gradually, we are tiptoeing out, beginning to mingle, beginning to gather. Of course, there will always be risks, but vibrant lives thrive in the open, being careful but bold as we step out in faith.

God delights in showering us with his love and blessings. Blessing upon blessing. On Saturday, the Lord threw open the floodgates of heaven and poured out so much blessing my heart is overflowing. All seventeen of our immediate family (from three households) gathered under blue skies to celebrate Doug’s birthday. First time we were all together for nearly a year.

With eight grandchildren 6 years old and under, I couldn’t say it was peaceful. But there were few tears, mostly squeals of delight and surprise (at how cold the water in the paddling pool was…)

I love the way the sunflower turns to follow the sun in its course across the skies. Today, and every day, may our faces be turned to the Son, so that his brightness would blot out every shadow of concern and fill our hearts with peace, as we trust in him.

Cut short

 

We’ve all shared the delight of watching the parent blue tits work hard these last few weeks, first preparing the nest, painstakingly carrying a twig or a bit of fluff in to line it, one twig at a time. There was a flurry of activity and a rising of joy and expectation.

Two cats reside with us. Ferocious hunters. We were as attentive as possible, removing anything that might make it easier for them to reach the birds. Sadly, though, after the two eggs had hatched, Indy killed one of the parents.

Saddened, we watched as the remaining parent worked feverishly to nourish his growing brood. Three or four days ago I took this picture. Eager beaks appeared at the opening whenever the parent returned, and the food was greedily gobbled.

Nothing after that. We thought they had flown the nest. We couldn’t hear any more chirruping. We didn’t see the single parent popping in and out. Don opened the door.

Horror. Two dead chicks. No sign of a parent. Is that a smirk I see on Indy or Prince’s face?

Babies need help, if they’re going to flourish, if they’re going to fly. They need others to feed and care for them. Spiritual babies need help, too. They need food, encouragement, care. They need protection from the predators that lurk all around.

Jesus gathers us into church, not to build an institution, but to grow us in understanding and maturity. I learn so much from my sisters in our weekly Bible study. We learn from each other. We go away nourished, often with a thought or two to ruminate on until the next week. We go away protected by each other’s prayers.

May our organic churches flourish and fly, demonstrating the love of the Father through our actions and words.

Soft Rain

 

What’s that noise?

The soft tapping of a gentle rain brushes the windows. We have enjoyed several days of sunshine. I have revelled in the warmth, even as I dragged watering cans round the seedlings to ensure they didn’t die of thirst.

The rain falls on the parched earth, swelling the potatoes, strengthening the roots of the broccoli, encouraging the carrot seeds to sprout. Although I love the uninterrupted sunshine, today I welcome this light rain, as it frees me from responsibility to keep these things alive.

Frees me from responsibility. So often I feel and act as if things depend on me and my efforts. I sense this morning that God is relieving me of that burden. It’s a burden he didn’t create me to carry. He created me, and you, to depend on him, to entrust our anxieties to him and to be set free from fear.

As he waters the earth for me today, may he also be in my words and in my actions, bringing refreshment and life to those I encounter. May his Spirit in me revive those who thirst, those whose heads hang low, those who mourn or fear.

‘The Lord your God is with you; he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you; he will quiet you with his love; he will rejoice over you with singing.’ (Zephaniah 3:17)

As you stand on the parched ground of disappointment, of difficult situations, of challenging circumstances, of awkward relationships, may the love of the Lord sprinkle down on you and revive you. May you hear his voice of love rejoicing over you with singing. And may you receive his peace, knowing you are special, you are loved, you are blessed.

Stand Firm

 

The peace is rent again this morning by the sound of tractors zooming round the fields scooping up the cut grass. The skill of the farmers is impressive, as they coordinate their machines perfectly in order to hoover it up and fling it into a companion wagon. I wonder if the farmers ever miscalculate and crash into each other.

All this activity in order to store up food to nourish the cattle during the cold months when the grass no longer grows to be grazed.

Preparedness. I’m thinking how important it is to feed our spirits and our memory banks with scripture and worship music while we can, so that we have it to live on when we find ourselves in cold months. The pandemic lock down has been a lean time for us all, depriving us of the nourishing meadows of friendships and church gatherings where we can graze as we are inspired by God’s word lived out in front of us.

This morning I’m thinking of our sisters and brothers in the persecuted church. They have been denied the lavish spiritual sustenance we have available, and may be clinging to God through a verse or two only. I am in awe of their courage and faithfulness, and for them I pray today.

‘Stand firm, then, with the belt of truth buckled round your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place.’ Eph 6:14. May our loving Lord dress them today in the armour of God so that they can stand firm in him.

A Murder of Crows

 

Up and down, back and forth: the tractor worked through the fields, cutting silage. Row after row of long grass stripes the field now as it dries. The activity drew a murder of crows. Aptly named. Their rough caws steal the peace. When the summer dawn broke around 3.30 this morning, the chorus of crows started up, wakening our sleeping household.

Our dawn chorus usually opens with the beautiful song of the blackbirds, quickly joined by all the rest: chaffinches, blue and great tits, swallows, even cuckoos. We love the gentle harmonies and rhythms of our morning wake-up call.

Today, though, it is just the murder of crows we hear. Or is it? When I sit still and listen, I hear the gentle cooing of the pigeons. Underneath the cacophony of caws, I hear the voices of our songbirds as they continue to go about their business. The single-parent blue tit (bereaved of its partner by our cat…boo) continues to work feverishly to feed its noisy brood in the birdhouse. The cuckoo has come closer this year, right into one of our trees: probably it has stolen the nest of a blackbird.

Life is hard, and sometimes the murder of crows we hear in our hearts drowns out the sweet songs of life. But the sweet songs continue, if we take time to listen, and have an ear to hear.

May we all hear the songs of angels today, their chorus of praise to the creator overwhelming the rough caws of anxieties and stresses, and bringing us the peace of God.

 

Peace

 

Marianne led us in a series of wellness poses. We engaged our hands and arms in physical expressions of worship, raising arms in praise, then offering to God the concerns that burdened us. As we lowered these to the ground, we were encouraged to pick up God’s blessings for us that day.

My concerns largely focused on my mother. As I laid her before the Lord, I saw with my spiritual eyes a pink rose. Twice I saw that pink rose.

Mhairi asked me later what I thought of when I thought of a pink rose. Peace, I said. Peace, and my Mom, because she used to grow a beautiful pink rose, very fragrant, called Peace. I then googled the meaning of pink roses in the Bible (yes, you can google that!). Peace and gratitude.

What a gift! As I receive that pink rose from our heavenly Father, I sense the peace, and I overflow with gratitude – both to Him, for giving me such a gift, and to Mom, for being who she is.

The Lord is closer than we imagine. He cares about every detail of our lives, and as we invite him in, he transforms them, and us. I continue to receive that pink rose.

And I think I’ll try to find one for my garden. On this beautiful day, peace everyone.

Few Peas

 

The seed tray is disappointingly sparse. Although I planted two dozen or so peas in it a couple of weeks ago, only half a dozen have sprouted and are growing. Eventually I worked out my mistake. Two mistakes, really. First, I used the wrong compost. I just grabbed an open bag, and then realised, too late, that it was coarse and gritty, not at all soft and pliant as it should be. I guess it is for potting on rather than sowing. Second, I forgot to soak the dried peas overnight. They went into the wrong soil, unprepared. Few have sprouted. Few will produce any peas.

So yesterday I started again. I filled a seed tray with Miracle Grow seed compost. I watered it, and I soaked the peas – way too many, it turns out – overnight. They are now in the soil, warming in the conservatory, and I fully expect to see quick results.

Jesus drew analogies between his Kingdom and his followers and soils, seeds and growth. I received several insights last week, when we pulled out of the norm and into a retreat and took time to listen to what he was saying to me. He planted seeds in my heart, in my mind, in my spirit.

Back in my day-to-day environment and routine, there is a danger that I neglect them.

Today I pray that his seeds fall on rich soil within me. I pray that I allow warm sunlight and refreshing water to tease those seeds into life, that the growth will be luxurious and nourishing to myself and others. May I nurture a contemplative mind which continues to consider his truths even as I garden, cook, and go about other mundane activities.